A Vicious Cycle II: Devil
by Ripsi
Summary: Everything is starting to seem connected, but everyone is disconnecting. One accident will change Claire's life more than the past year has, and Wesker's desire to help may be genuine. What could be so bad about that?
1. Followups

A/N: Ok this chapter was not originally what I had meant to be the first chapter but I think that an immediate followup is required. So read and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, nor do I own Ford or any of its splendiferous, big, sexy trucks. But the original characters Kick, Rush, Saul, Omar, Elea, Zeke, Gianna, Bart, and Roger, and others I'm sure I failed to mention are all mine.

A Vicious Cycle II: Devil

Chapter 1: Followups

Subject: Abolhassan-Ramirez, Isabella "Kick"

Location: Russia

Status: Fine

I'd never been to Russia before, but I spoke the language. I'd been to the Americas of course, Europe, Australia, Africa, one half of Asia, and hell even Antarctica for reasons even I didn't know. Wesker just would never let me go to Russia; something about sex slavery and the suspicion a new person of color entering would bring. I knew he was lying throughout that whole lame ass excuse that he was telling through his teeth, grabbing at straws to keep me away from there, and now I understood why he never wanted me to go.

"Oliveira! Put out that fire!" The South American smirked at me as he doused the flames that were just large enough to be a fire hazard to our provisional housing. The deep orange tents were cheap I could tell, that's why Claire and I chose to buy our own with sections and zippers for privacy. I knew better than to trust a foreign country with accommodations, and though grateful, the politicians never passed up the chance to be cheap.

Oliveira fell onto the split log that we used as a seat, and it made the scene look more like a coed scout camp than a temporary militaristic base. "'Got a few questions for you Ramirez."

"Though I don't care I know you'll ask anyway," I said in an uninterested voice, fiddling with my newest flip lighter.

"Why do you have two last names?"

My stare was both confused and annoyed as I looked into his dark and stubbly face, my eyebrows furrowed so that I was sure they were touching. "Because my parents weren't together. 'The hell kinda question was that?"

"Okay calm down. Why do you speak Spanish so much if you're from Brazil with an Arab mom? Why not Portuguese?"

Thinking of my history bothered me more than I anticipated, and my voice caught in my throat as I attempted to answer. Carlos Oliveira didn't know much about his own past, other than he was some kind of Native born in South America, but I could see why someone else's history seemed so appealing to him. "Mi padre," I simply stated.

"What was he?"

"Mexican, Brazilian… a dash of Panamanian. I stayed with him a lot as a child. So I spoke Spanish with him, with my mother too, but I had to speak Arab or Portuguese with my siblings so I had to know those."

Lighting up a cigarette he shook his head. "Damn, you got a crammed brain. Why didn't they know how to speak Spanish?"

"To keep my twin sister happy," I began, not wanting to, or too ashamed to speak her name, "because she would have thought Alice loved my dad more to know that Omar was my full brother. Gianna's father was Italian, Nadia's-" I stopped, incapable of uttering her name without crying. When her name was said, a part of me broke, and I knew that whenever it was spoken she deserved sorrow, pity, and reverence. "We don't know about her dad."

There was no way Carlos had missed the unmistakable sound of grief in my voice; he put out his cigarette in his hand and flicked it to the ground. "Since you knew Birkin personally, did you think he was a bit of a dick too?" I nodded, too saddened to answer in a strong enough voice.  
"I know it's sad to lose people."

His sentence seemed cut short, like there was more he wanted to say, but he merely got to his feet and walked off. Which direction he took is a mystery to me; my gaze was on the ground, and I think it was what he wanted. Carlos bothered me so much because of my connection to Jill, but my severed link with AUA was what kept him from inquiring, so he knew still that there was no way he could have her. In a world where a certain person who was significant to me didn't exist though, he could possibly be with her, but I don't want that world to ever come to be. Because even though I wouldn't be living a lie, my heart would; I would know how things were supposed to be.

"Kick?" I almost jumped at the sound of Claire's voice, and I looked up to see that she was standing right in front of me.

Getting up off the log I asked, "What did you find?"

"There's a barn." She struggled with the statement, and her emotional state made it hard for her to raise the volume of her voice above a whisper.

"How many?"

"One, and a man," she stammered "They aren't reawakening, but I'm not sure if they were infected."

Wordlessly, with a nod of my head I told her to show me where it was, and with tentative steps she started off towards the woods. No one else in the camp would go there out of fear of the bigger or more dangerous monsters hiding in the foliage, but Claire had a lot of proving to do. I'd found out from Carlos that AAA was paying extra to the men if they reported on her performance, and they knew that I took care of the hard calls on our assignments. Frankly Claire wasn't cut out for the job of an assassin or merc, leaving me to do the work she failed to do, but it didn't bother me since I wasn't honoring her checks. Claire's specialty was transportation, not killing, but boy could she kill when the person or being was clearly an irredeemable threat.

As we walked, we opted not to speak to one another, and so we had five minutes of silence between us. I presumed Claire was nervous that I would reprimand her for failing to exterminate without command, but sometimes I liked that she checked back; there was no point in wasting ammo and putting bullet holes into bodies that had already been left to decompose. The old barn was brown, rotting, and full of old hay. Rusty buckets lined the far wall, the missing steps on the ladder that led up top advised against ascending, and the stench of the place could only be ignored once one saw the sight in the middle of the floor. Two decaying bodies were left in the hay, a man in his late forties with graying hair and a salt and pepper beard lay next to a little blonde girl.

The farmer was in his working clothes, probably was just about to start his day, and the girl was in a little pink dress with one of her dress shoes missing. Looking at her, I judged her to be at least seven years old, forcing me comprehend Claire's hesitance to let off into the corpses. After I murdered Giovanni, my sister's son, I found it quite easy to dispatch of children, and though it sounded so heartless of me to admit to such a thing it was the truth. Children were dangerous as are we women; we use our appearances to our advantage, and the fact that men have a desire to protect and the urge to aid women and children only adds to their foolishness.

We could be helpless, pathetic, lonely, seductive, and when we enter into a man's world we allow them to indulge in whatever wish they hold. Who doesn't want something to care for? It's why people take pets. Men want women because no one wants to be alone, and they want children because everyone wants something to nourish and flourish under them.

"So, what do we do?" Claire's voice sounded so small right now, so fearful.

Without thinking about it I whipped out my pistols as fast as I could and shot the corpses in their heads. In my peripheral vision I saw Claire jump, but her mouth did not open to protest my decision when two little groans rose into the air. After holstering my weapons at my hips I turned back to the open barn door, and walked back toward base camp. It seemed I was always right these days.

* * *

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: Russia

Status: Fine

Though her decision was right, I still felt terrible about the incident that took place in this barn. Slowly, soundlessly, I made my way over to the corpse of the little girl. I still hadn't seen her face, which probably would have made it easier for me to dispatch of the body on my own. Blonde haired little girl… All I saw was Sherry. I heard her, but I knew I would never again.

I hesitated just as I was about to turn her onto her back, my open palm was inches away from her shoulder, but I couldn't do it. I stood up and stepped back to grab her by her ankles, then proceeded to drag her cold, lifeless body from the barn. I worked more quickly with the man, not caring much that I saw one of his eyes as I pulled him out to leave him next to the little girl. Trying not to bite my lip, I pulled the flask of kerosene from one pocket, and my flip lighter that once belonged to Chris from my other. I carefully doused the bodies, and as soon as their flesh began to char I stepped back into the barn in an attempt to escape the smell.

How much longer could I do this?

I was irritated at this point; this woman was taking way too long on the satellite phone talking to her kids and the cheap Russians who hired us only chose to distribute five of them to a group of about eighty. I was about to give up and walk away right now but I heard her tell her children goodbye and I immediately put on my fake smile as she handed the black cellular device to me. Quickly, unable to connect fast enough, I punched in the number of the Greek AUA HQ and waited to hear the annoying ringing that one had to endure until someone answered the phone. I didn't have to wait long though for in the middle of the first ring I heard someone pick up the receiver. I waited for a, "Hello," but it was silent.

"Chris?" I asked, unsure of whether or not the reception on these things was as great as people claimed. "Hello?" For a brief moment I heard breathing, not deliberately threatening breathing, rather the breathing of someone who was trying to be quiet while their presence on the other end was detectable, but then whoever it was hung up the phone. Pulling the phone away from my ear I did a quick survey of my surroundings, seeing that I was in the middle of the orange mass of tents, the closest tree was maybe sixty feet away, and not a soul was present at the moment. Instead of dialing the house again I set the phone in the metal tray attached to the small pole that had been driven into the ground and started toward the makeshift warehouse over the hill.

As I began a brisk jog I felt that I was being watched, but I refused to look back; it would have been pointless when I was trying to tell myself that there was nothing amiss. The side of the aluminum warehouse was within sight and with that also came the sight of two of my comrades sharing a cigarette. By the time I reached the front of the building I was out of breath, not from the short jog up the hill but because the call had managed to creep me out a little. At the front of the warehouse, I saw Kick looking around, like she was making sure no one was watching her, but I was not concerned with why, I just wanted to reach her. I felt like an eternity before I finally skidded to a halt before her, and in surprise-maybe- she threw her hands up in the air as though she was surrendering to the FBI.

"I was just," I started, but the sight of smoke rising up into the air caught my attention, and I eyed my partner. "What were you just doing?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an honest answer from her.

"Nothing," she replied, trying for casual and failing. It didn't matter to me if she smoked really, it was just a gross habit to me, and she was doing it more often lately. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Never mind, it's nothing," I lied. Rather than push people to the possibility that I was paranoid after so many years of dealing with Umbrella I'd abruptly changed my mind about filling Kick in on one tiny incident. When people thought you were crazy you drove yourself down the highway straight into it, and I was already close to the edge after the events at Rockford and Antarctica. No, I wouldn't say a thing because who would even be after me when the only Umbrella I'd been near was an actual umbrella? All of the people we'd been sent to neutralize by AAA were done away with properly, and there was no chance that any of our enemies had survived.

I hadn't heard from Wesker in a year, not since that day when he's beaten me… Maybe though, maybe he was saying hello, maybe he was coming back, but Chris assured me that he had disappeared off the map and that he hadn't even been dealing with any corporations lately. It wasn't him, it was a mistake. That is what I told myself and that is what I'd stick with. Honestly, it made me feel a lot better at night.

* * *

Subject: Redfield, Christopher

Location: AUA Greek HQ

Status: Fine

It had been a while since I'd heard from Kick or Claire, but I chose not to worry too much about the pair. Last I heard they were off to Russia, where we had been not too long ago, but of course they were in a different location. I often thought about going to London to pay the two a visit but every five seconds Jill was bringing new problems into our relationship and it was only a matter of time before I decided that I could no longer stand her presence. Maybe a trip to England wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Had I fallen out of love with her? No. She was just overbearing nowadays and the only explanation there could be was that she saw it, the connection between Kick and me, but I believe that this particular suspicion had to one concocted by the paranoia one develops after they commit an infidelity. But all day everyday Jill was nagging me, demanding way more sex than usual, and-I shouldn't complain because usually after a couple are together for so long there is no such thing as a sex life-this was tiring me out. For all I knew this could have been her attempt at keeping me interested, but then again, maybe she was trying to get pregnant.

Thankfully, I had my way of preventing this from happening with the help provided by AUA's helpful medical team; when you had doctors who were trying to keep people pleased that were out to save the world, the pressure on them made them do anything and keep secrets very well at that. There was no way Jill was getting knocked up any time soon and if she did I would know without a doubt that I was not the father, but it bothered me that this was what my life had become. I sat around waiting for work to come and I was not out doing a regular job. After getting kicked out of the Air Force my life plans had been shot to hell.

I was supposed to have a wife and family on base, able to retire after twenty years of that crap and live a normal life in a suburb somewhere with a big, red F-250. I may not be able to have that life but I prayed my sister would; it started as her coming here to be near me and now she was over in England doing her own thing with someone who I knew would never be able to have that. Kick was unable to conceive, though I didn't know the specific reasons I knew this was what was true, and my heart ached for her. It sucked because I could see her with a baby in her arms in the hospital, looking worn out yet still so beautiful as she cradled her bundle of joy.

I had to stop thinking about that though because it was never going to happen. I considered getting out of bed at this moment, and just as I was about to I heard the door open and I already knew that it was Jill.

"Chris? You're still in bed?"

I wanted to retort with, "You're still bitching?" but I knew that would not be a good idea. Instead I chose to state, "I'm going to London in a few days. Think I'll check on Kick and Claire."

"And you're not curious as to whether or not I wanna go?" she asked, and though I had my eyes covered with my arm I knew her arms were now folded over her chest.

"_Do_ you wanna go?" I asked in exasperation.

"Who would we be staying with?"

After I told her, she most likely wouldn't want to. "Well, since Claire stays in a one bedroom apartment we'd be staying at Kick's house."

"And why can't we just get a hotel room?"

Finally removing my arm from over my eyes I turned to her and said, "Because I'm not staying a hotel room in_ London_. On top of that, Rush is supposed to be going out there too so since Kick's house has three bedrooms we can all just stay at her place."

"And you think it'll be wise to leave the newbies here with just Barry?" Her questions were starting to get on my nerves, and the only reason I was still in bed was because I had a migraine from hell at the moment.

"Jill," I began, looking at her, "It's for like, three days."

With a huff she turned on her heel, and as she left the room I heard her say, "I'm not leaving Barry with Zeke and Elea."

It wasn't a bad idea that she stay though; I didn't trust the two new recruits to be here alone, and though they had been here for about eight months I still considered them new because they didn't know how things worked, and they didn't understand the importance of laying as low as possible right now. We hadn't heard from Albert Wesker in a whole year and Elea liked to party, but it was strength in numbers right now so if we went out we needed to have a large enough group. A whole year without hearing from him, and even though I didn't like to think of him I could not help but wonder where he was now.

More importantly though, I wondered what he was up to.

* * *

Subject: Chambers, Rebecca

Location: Unknown

Status: Caution

There was a low humming noise, and for some reason it wouldn't stop. My neck was beginning to hurt now, my head had been hanging down for some time, but I had no idea how long that could have been. One minute I was navigating the streets of Ohio and the next… I couldn't remember anything after I turned that corner and now I wracked my brain in my state of desperation to understand why. With a deep sigh I blinked slowly, to clear my vision though the only things I saw were my thighs. What was going on?

Slightly, I turned my wrists, feeling the rough material of a braided rope that held them behind my back. "Don't panic Rebecca," I told myself, but I still could feel that very emotion begin to form in my chest, my stomach, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost my wits. Though I had been a member of S..S. I was just a medic, and despite the fact that I was involved with the Umbrella fiasco and the outbreaks I never mastered the ability to stay calm under extreme duress. AUA was great fieldwork but even then I was babied by my comrades, sheltered from the things that caused the hairs to rise on the back of my neck.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself when I heard the sound of heavy boots, the owner of them attempting to move softly across the cement floor. I was far too curious to pretend to still be unconscious, so I looked up to see my captor, just in case I wouldn't get a chance later, and my mouth fell open as I gazed upon his face. My breath caught in my throat and I only managed to release a croak that intended to come out as a name. I began hyperventilating when I was able to breathe again, giving me the ability to whisper, "It can't be true."

Before I could utter his name his gloved hand balled into a fist, striking me across my jaw, I felt the char falling sideways to the floor, me along with it, and I heard my head thud against the floor but the impact was so great that I was already slipping away into the darkness without having felt the pain of the punch for too long. Why was this happening to me? My search had ended here.

A/N: REVIEW!


	2. AAA

A/N: I passed all my classes!

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil but Kick and any other original characters belong to me. Uh-huh.

A Vicious Cycle II

Chapter 2: AAA

Subject: Redfield, Claire

Location: London, England

Status: Fine

The rain failed to bother Isabella-what our new employers preferred her to go by-but it kept me feeling groggy as ever and yet the noise it created kept me awake and jumpy. This note couldn't mean that much. "Thank you." For what? Of course, the fact that Wesker sent me a note did not bother me nearly as much as the fact that the message made it to me.

More specifically though, it made it to AAA. How bold of him to send something so suspicious to an Agency known for its army of elite assassins. Once we both thought about it though, Kick and I supposed that it did not matter at all seeing as Wesker could take down the whole organization. For about the sixth time since receiving the message I redid my ponytail, noticing that my hair was now getting close to reaching the middle of my back; I was still deciding on whether or not to continue to let it grow. I saw that Kick's was getting so long so I had often thought about doing the same thing that she did: not cut anything but the ends every so often.

I wasn't trying to change my look or anything; I just figured that there was no longer any point to having a short 'do. It was just a bit annoying when some pieces of hair decided to rebel and stick out because they were too short to be restrained by a ponytail holder. Also, I was beginning to think that I was a bit prettier with longer hair, and though it was difficult to deal with it was worth looking in the mirror and appearing how I wanted to feel. That trip to Russia had me all out of sorts and we'd only been back in London for two days, so once more I was in this medium sized office that I shared with Kick, our desks taking up most of the space, but I wasn't complaining. It was the Styrofoam coffee cups that were making the place seem smaller than it was; we kept those around because when we were bored we'd burn them with our lighters.

That was the only thing we could do that wouldn't get us in trouble. One day Kick had decided to play a target game with the clock over the door of our office, and now we know bullet beats plastic and cogs.

"It was for you," she said out of nowhere, chewing on her pen top.

I turned to my left to look at her. "What was?"

"The note," she replied, throwing a piece of balled up paper into the wastebasket by the door in front of us. "It was meant for the person it scared, and you Claire are scared."

Though there was some truth to what she was saying I couldn't allow her to know that the note had actually rattled me, and obviously I wasn't very convincing. "Why would he be trying to scare me Kick?"

Being the expert on the enigmatic figure that is Albert Wesker, she managed to concoct an answer quite easily with very little thought. "Because he's probably bored, hasn't had shit to do, and he wants us-mainly you-to remember that he's still out there. He wants you to know he's thinking of you," she added more quietly, but she could put herself on mute for all I cared because even then I could still hear the hint in her voice.

The urge to disagree with her and vehemently deny her claim came over me but my reply was silence. I saw her mouth part to say more, and I just knew she wasn't going to let this thing go.

Thankfully, our argument was stopped by the sound of knocking at our office door. With my gaze still on Kick, icier than the subject of our conversation's initial eye color, I yelled a quick, "It's open!" Clipboard in hand, Andrew, stepped over the threshold, his brown hair and raincoat beaded with water. Damn, it was still raining, I hadn't even heard it. Andrew was Kick's assistant, an American member of AAA who had been desked a while back; he couldn't take the assignments, which meant he had no choice since resignation wasn't an option.

"For Isabella," he said, handing her the clipboard over her desk.

"What's this?" she asked, quickly flipping through the papers and therefore earning no sense of them. She never had the patience to look things over before signing them.

"Monthly evaluation," he informed her, and her mood changed from annoyed to hurt, or at least that's what it looked like to me. AAA required Kick to take written evaluations which consisted of questions submitted by board members who were concerned for the safety of the other employees. "I'll leave you to it," he whispered, noting her change in demeanor.

I sent him off with a sweet smile, letting it set on my lips until the door closed. "Same questions?" I asked as my partner allowed the quick scribbling of her pen to do the work of answering me. She could recite the questions by now.

Throwing her pen down, she said, "They're just being careful. After all, I'm not human. I could snap any second."

"You know," I began, speaking softly with the smallest smile on my face, "Andrew really likes you."

"Claire, shut up." Right after her command she turned back to the evaluation in front of her, pretending that she was paying attention to it. She didn't like him that way, especially since she was only given an assistant because the higher-ups felt she needed someone monitoring and checking in on her. I think it hurt her to even think about moving on with anyone, especially since she figured it was best to call it quits with Leon, at least until they were able to be together again. They had not seen each other for a whole year, something I couldn't imagine going through with Rush, and despite the fact that I could not fathom that scenario happening to me lately I was thinking about the development of my relationship with him.

Things were moving slowly, it seemed that in the beginning we had sex merely because of the physical attraction and since we slept together before we were even an official couple everything felt like it was off track. Of course I grew to love him and he loved me back, or so he claimed, but it was all so weird how we just clicked right away. I didn't want to doubt our connection but I also didn't want to fall so madly in love that if things fell apart I'd be left broken like a little rejected schoolgirl with a hapless crush.

"There's a message for you in the lobby." I don't know if that was the first time Kick had notified me of this, I imagine that I was lost in thought while I mulled over my love life. With a sigh I stood up from my desk and headed out our office door. I took the elevator down to the ground floor and made my way over to the front desk, the sound of the heels of my boots clicking loudly against the champagne, tiled floor that mirrored my reflection clearly. Kick and I got to enjoy our comfy jeans today; everyone on the 11th floor chose to look semi-formal on days like these, the boring days.

Most of our weekdays consisted of meetings and briefings on the newest targets and since that involved bringing in specialists from all over the world we had to wear dress clothes to pull together the "Aristocratic" look and convince them that we were as professional as the name of this agency suggested. The meetings mentioned were held on the 15th floor, the place of no jokes and thousand dollar suits, we only got a _huge_ discount on our formal wear because we were what made this place. Today I wore a pair of faded jeans with black, knee-high boots covering my shins that were supported by five-inch heels, a white v-neck tee, and a black, leather jacket. Though not Aristocratic, and though I was not voluptuously built, my slender body wrapped in this outfit definitely turned heads, and I was not one for vanity but I had to admit that I looked damn good today.

The sight of Andrew leaning against the elevated, circular desk at the center of the lobby caught my attention, and before Janice, the middle-aged blonde receptionist could continue to contribute to their conversation, he looked in my direction and smiled. He excused himself and took a few steps towards me, hands in the pockets of his dress pants (I honestly don't believe I'd ever seen him in anything but).

"Claire!" he called, though he was only two feet away from me, but something obviously had him excited right now and a little bit jittery as well.

"Hi…again," I replied, hoping I hadn't sounded too unenthusiastic but really I had just seen the guy a few minutes ago. "Um, I came down here for a message," I informed him, hoping to get that out of the way first.

His hands raised he said, "Yeah, yeah I know. It's me."

A part of me wanted to ask, "What the hell could you want from me?" but I had to remind myself how nice he was to my partner and me. "Yeah, what's up?" were my smartly chosen words.

"Well," I got this friend Jake," he began, his eyes searching the area nervously, "And I know that you have a boyfriend and Jake has a fiancée-"

Knowing that his rambling would not become sensible with time I interjected. "What's your point Andrew?"

Throwing me a nervous smile he said, "I would very much like to go on a date with Isabella, and I think she'd be more willing if it was a double date."

I'm sure my face was scrunched up in ways it shouldn't have been capable of scrunching. "Shouldn't you be asking Kick about this?"

His brown eyes were definitely rolling around his head after my question; he was taking this whole situation too seriously, like if I had said no then Japan would explode or something. He adjusted his blue tie anxiously and unnecessarily smoothed out his white, button down shirt. He was a mess that had been carefully pieced together, and his distress was all because of a woman who barely weighed 115 pounds and was a whole foot shorter than him. Kick had told me about "The Power of the Kitty" before, but this guy didn't even have a hint that he could possibly get any and he was about to faint into his own puddle of sweat.

"I needed to know if you're on board," he whispered, leaning in close to me as though the office snitch, Janice was wearing a spy cam or something. I doubt she would have even found this newsworthy. It was actually encouraged that the agents here who deal with fieldwork be romantically involved with someone who also had a job that requires they have the same level of security clearance, which is why my relationship with Rush was never brought into to question by the board. Now if someone here that was an active officer tried to date either a civilian or one of the fat cats upstairs then that would be a definite no, no. Ethics were a bitch to learn around this place.

"I'll help you," I said with a sigh. Though I didn't really care too much about hooking him up with my best and only friend in London I did need to go out and get my drinks paid for by someone else. It was only something I wanted to do out of boredom so I'd call Rush later-if Kick agreed-and tell him that _I _wasn't the one going on a date and that Jake had a fiancée back home to be afraid of.

Once I got back upstairs, away from the excessive thank yous that Andrew was sputtering, I informed Kick of his proposal.

"Yeah sure," she said, stacking some papers to her right without even bothering to glance up at me.

With a questionable look on my face I sat on top of her desk while she continued to file away. Staring down at her, I asked, "Really?"

Finally, she stopped what she was doing to stare me right in the eye. "I'm only doing it to tell him that there's no chance of anything blossoming between us." My brow rose significantly towards my hairline at her demeanor. She had been acting strange these past two weeks, she seemed to be hiding things from me and she was acting all too serious to be the real Kick. "Goddammit!" she hissed, rolling her chair back from her desk so that she could put one hand to her stomach and place her head on the desk.

"What's wrong?" I asked, nearly jumping up from my seated position. "Are you ok?" I asked, making my way around the desk. I kneeled before her, watching her blow out small puffs of breath.

"I'm fine," she assured me, although the sound of her voice still had me worrying. What was going on with her?

* * *

We'd agreed to keep Wesker's note a secret seeing as there would be an investigation, we would be expected to answer questions and even fill out a report. I didn't want to go through all of that for a note with two words and a signature on it that could mean nothing. I had more to worry about right now anyway, like the impending trampling of Kick's words over Andrew's heart. Since I had no reason to look good for a guy who wasn't single I chose to throw on a charcoal cami, with a pair of boot cut jeans, and black sneakers. I wanted to be dressed for a bar but at the same time I wanted to be comfortable enough if anything went down.

I was still in combat mode; it took me awhile to calm down after affairs such as the one in Russia were dealt with, although it was not the most difficult task.

"Ready?" Kick leaned against the doorway to my little, one bedroom flat. She dressed like she was going to the beach with her decision to wear a light-pink tube top, daisy dukes, and a pair of black flip flops. Kick wouldn't be kicking tonight…

"Almost," I replied, holding my hair back as I searched the old, brown couch in the center of my living room for the ponytail holder I threw down a few minutes earlier.

Stepping in from the hallway she said, "Leave it. It'll make you look like an overly-comfy college kid. We're going to a bar not the library." With that she was out the door, taking the negativity she brought in with her, whatever she was going through I sure hoped that she would get over it. With a sigh of defeat I ended my search and was out the door. Andrew drove, of course, and the short drive to Finn's was quiet most likely due to the seating. Kick chose to ride in the back with me while Andrew and his friend sat up front, something I was grateful for because in my eyes it was just wrong to throw a friend off to a guy she barely knows.

As soon as we entered the double doors of Finn's we were engulfed in the fog of cigarette smoke and the sound of pool balls knocking into one another assaulted our ears. I think Andrew brought us here because he was used to our laid-back-office demeanor, but how else were two females gonna act in a building that was sixty-five percent men? Speaking of Andrew, I noticed that he ditched the dress pants for jeans but he still chose to wear a black button-down. Yeah, he definitely wasn't her type.

"Wanna play some pool?" The question was directed to Kick, so I didn't even turn around, I just assumed she said yes because they passed in front of Jake and me, leaving us to find our own reindeer games.

Finally, I looked to the only person in our party who remained by my side, noticing that he was a pretty good looking guy. Dark hair, five o'clock shadow, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up just below his elbows. And his green eyes were to die for. But I wasn't a single woman so I had to keep the admiring to a minimum.

Staring down at me with a friendly smile that one presents to passing strangers he asked, "Wanna get a drink?"

My nods were vigorous and he grabbed my arm before leading me to one of the booths on the opposite side of the bar, but we sat in the corner which allowed us to keep our friends within sight. I ordered a Hurricane while he stuck with the stereotypical, overly-masculine choice of a beer. Seeing as Andrew's rejection would lead him to heartache he would be the one needing the hard liquor so I assumed that Jake predicted the same outcome. He got major brownie points for sticking to the lighter stuff in case his buddy needed a designated driver, and he was such a large man that I doubted three beers would put a dent in his sobriety. Our drinks were brought back quickly, and now that I could work on getting a little drunk I could strike up a conversation with Jake.

After taking a sip of my drink I gave a little smile of delight, I could never taste the alcohol in those things; something Chris called me an alcoholic for saying. "So, Jake where do you work?" I knew he wasn't a regular civilian who just up and left his fiancée back in America, so the only other explanation was that he was working with some organization similar to ours.

"Cross," he replied. He took a swig of his beer and it was obvious how painful it was not to take in half of the glass with one gulp. Since I offered nothing in return he continued to speak about the organization, such a helpful guy, and I didn't even have to tell him to elaborate. "It's a small-time thing, nothing like AUA or AAA. Well, it's like them in what we do but we're just the usual mercs, nothing 'fancy' like you guys," he finished with a smirk and he once again took another controlled swallow.

I crossed my arms in front of me, leaning down to my glass so that I could smile flirtatiously and work on getting tipsy. "I'm sure you guys are just important." It felt nice to flirt with someone, it was all harmless of course, and I was never an attention whore but I was starving for the male affection that I was denying myself until I saw Rush again. Being a woman I had needs, sure my excuse for upkeep was that my job demanded it not my sex life, but I needed someone to appreciate my time in the gym and to admire that I'd turned down the best damn looking cake at that office party last week. At that thought my eyes wandered to Kick who looked bored as she showed Andrew up at the pool table, that bitch didn't have to turn down cake, hell she lived off it when some was left over in her refrigerator.

I mentally kicked myself at that thought; I was a regular, aging human being whose metabolism slowed down when I myself chose to. It wasn't hard staying slim, just hard to keep the love handles at bay, and though nowadays men loved something they could sink their claws into I surely couldn't be caught walking around in size 2 jeans with muffin top. See, I didn't usually think this way but now that there was a handsome guy in front of me I couldn't help it, I'd become those men in prison who go nuts at the sight of a cardboard cutout of a swimsuit model. What was I thinking; I'd never had love handles a week in my life! It was time to get a grip because A: I couldn't sleep with this guy, B: I couldn't get his number, and C: _I couldn't even meaninglessly make out with him!_

He raised his hand playing at modesty and it brought me back to the here and now, and despite that action I knew he was only trying to demonstrate good manners. "We have our days."

"I'm sure you do."

One Hurricane and many laughs later I needed to get to the restroom, I excused myself and stole a peak at my partner, yawning in boredom as Andrew looked over the small menu of food. Someone was running out of methods of stalling, I thought to myself, walking past the two with a smile that said, "Sucks for you." Something caught my eye on the way to the restroom though, a dark figure that had quietly gone through the back door. I didn't know who it could have been but since Wesker had just contacted me I could only assume that it was him. Without telling anyone, I exited the bar, finding myself in the alley that served as the establishment's personal dump. Many trash bags were thrown against the dumpster that was filled to the brim already with dozens of them, it looked like the owner was too busy or cheap to request another receptacle.

"Wesker?" My voice was soft, whispering the name because I felt silly for jumping to the conclusion and embarrassed because it sounded like I wanted him to be the mystery man. I looked around a little more, even venturing out to the end of the alley which deposited onto a regular sidewalk, but no one was there. Not until I grabbed the door to reenter Finn's.

There was a cord around my throat, so tight that I was sure my skin was covering where it indented into my neck and that there would be a mark reminding me of this fight until tomorrow. Instinct said to get it off, to grab at it but I knew that my efforts would be worthless, and with quick thinking and a move I didn't know would work I balled my hand up into a fist and threw it into my attacker's groin. There was no sound from them to indicate that any damage had been done, but they let go so it had to have had some effect. I fell to the hard ground, clawing at the assailant's choice of weapon, coughing and hacking. Though grateful for some air I had to focus on why I so desperately had to suck it in, in the first place.

Before me there was a man in a cat suit, a black, cloth mask concealing his face and even it was unremarkable. Holes for eyes, and nothing more. I reached for the gun concealed under the legs of my jeans in a holster, knowing that I wouldn't be quick enough to avoid another attack but I would be able to say that I tried. My opponent rushed at me angrily, tackling me into the wall behind us, my head hitting the bricks. At the least I expected to grunt, but I ended up yelling loudly at my latest injury. I couldn't see anything for the moment, although I expected a punch to come next, but there was nothing.

When I could finally see again I witnessed Jake wrestling with the attacker for my gun, the two of them on the ground holding each other back so the other could reach it first. I couldn't move just yet, my vision was still clouded, but I heard the sound of Jake's fist against the masked man's face, never knowing that it could sound so much like it did in the movies. The only one making any noise was Jake, the punching, the grunting, but the man beneath him was silent as he was bludgeoned. It was like he had been trained to show no sign of pain which sounded silly, but as my savior showed no signs of letting up I had to wonder about it. When he stopped punching, I just looked on at him, not able to believe what I'd just seen.

This is why Jake worked for an underground organization. He could kill a man with his bare hands.

* * *

Subject: Abolhassan-Ramirez, Isabella "Kick"

Location: London, England

Status: Caution

"Apparently I just missed the party," I said, sounding drained and unenthused. Jake was checking out his bloody knuckles while Claire pushed herself away from the wall that had been doubling as her support. Behind me the backdoor of Finn's creaked open and since I knew Andrew was the cause I saw no bother in turning around. "What happened?" I asked, taking in the sight of the masked man lying on the ground, undoubtedly dead.

As he whipped out his cell phone Jake answered. "This guy attacked Claire. Hello?" He began chatting with the person on the other end of the line, sounding like that one little human he took out had gotten him heated.

"I can't be around all this blood," and with one glance at the knife protruding from the would-be assassin's gut I was done.

Claire started in my direction but Jake distracted her with his assurance, "Andrew and I will handle this. You two can get home ok?" She must have nodded because I didn't hear her give an answer, so I figured that I was correct in my assumption when I heard her footsteps trailing not too far behind me. Honestly I hated ignoring her like this and treating her the way I had been lately, but I just didn't feel right anymore.

"Go home Claire," I said after two blocks of silence between us. The footsteps didn't falter though and I knew then and there that taking the back way home was a bad idea if I'd intended on solitude for the rest of the night. The eerie silence made me stop, but I didn't look around though like your usual scared chick would when she was all alone, biting her nails over the options of lions, tigers, or bears? "Look, whoever you are, I suggest you run along." I looked up to the tops of the slummy apartment buildings, knowing that if there was gonna be an attacker then I should expect for them to flee upward.

My tracker chose not to heed my warning though, and the sound of metal falling against cement let me know that they hoped for a big entrance. My face betrayed calm however, something I was supposed to at least _appear_ when faced with a mocking opponent, and those tended to be the least skilled yet most cocky. "Trust me," I warned, drawing out my words, "tonight's not the night." As I heard something whistle through the calm of the night, I shut my eyes tightly, pursing my lips in an attempt to quell the anger I felt rising inside me. The bullet missed by inches, imbedding itself in the wall of the dilapidated building just in front of me, and at the sound of the weapon being reloaded… I felt something in me snap.

Like I had been possessed, I whipped around to find the drainpipe of the building behind me, and began scaling it like I was Spiderman. That feral urge that I had been suppressing had emerged, and as I reached the top of the building I saw nothing but red. I could smell them, the gunpowder residue was strong on their hands, and their footsteps betrayed their attempt at a stealthy getaway. Something caught my eye just around the corner of the little block that was the rooftop entrance to the building, and as I steered my body left another shot sounded, this time more powerful. It hit me in the arm so hard that I was pushed off the building, and without thinking of the impact I allowed myself to fall.

I just wanted the kill.

It felt like forever before I hit the ground, the cement cracking where I'd landed, but the difference between me and the cement was that I could feel it. However, I released no cry of pain that would relay to my attackers that they had gotten to me just bad enough. Hissing, I pushed myself up on my left arm, promptly grabbing my right with the knowledge that something was broken. Still, I didn't care; I just wanted the people who dared to come after me. With a grunt I got to my feet noticing that my flip-flops were gone. That's what I get for having inadequate footwear, I thought to myself.

Behind me was the sound of boots, instinct telling me to turn, but it wasn't on time. Someone's fist connected with my check, the force behind their blow causing my head to whip around, but this was only pissing me off more. I locked onto my target, another masked assailant in a black cat suit, the sight causing me to both feel and hear a rumble coming from my chest. The desire for the kill was even stronger now, especially since I knew that the attempt on Claire's life was personal. I grabbed my right shoulder and pulled forward, hearing the sound of my bone being replaced.

From inside my attacker's mask, I heard the smallest breath, and somehow I managed to catch the tiniest scent but it was the most satisfying: fear. I couldn't explain what was happening to me or why, all I knew was the instinct to protect myself had grown stronger along with the want to taste the assassin. As I successfully jabbed twice in a row, both shots connecting with the attacker's nose, I felt the negativity in me dispersing throughout my body, and it felt so good not to have it incarcerated to just one part of me. I needlessly continued to beat my opponent as they lie helpless on the ground, unable to even block my attacks most likely because they were unconscious.

With that thought I brought them to their feet, holding the enemy in place as they swayed in a daze, staring into my eyes that had probably become silver by now. Through the eyeholes, two blue orbs looked back fearfully down on me, and at their display of terror I felt myself smile. Once I felt that they could stand themselves, I reached up, wrapping my right arm around their neck to grab their chin while my left palm rested against their cheek. With my smile even wider, my mouth open and watering, I pulled with my right arm quickly and listened to the satisfying sound of their neck severing from their spin. Instantaneously they began to fall to the ground, and I felt like a creature that had earned their right to a kill.

Something told me to ignore the smell of their nose blood that had seeped through the cloth of the mask, that I should look for the other killer, but I just couldn't leave my prey here unattended. My knees must have been scraped and ashy as hell by now as I kneeled over my kill, ready to sink my teeth into their jugular, the idea that their blood was not yet cold had me anxious. With my mouth opened as wide as I could manage without unhinging my jawbone, I went in. Another gun.

"Kick!" Something fell to the ground with a thud behind me, and with shame already filling me I turned to face Claire, the smoking gun still held in up in her shaking hands. "They were following you so I followed you all," she whispered, the tears in her eyes making that pointless. To keep from whimpering she chose to keep her voice low, but I could already see what my actions had done to her. Now I would be hungry on my long trek home.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not in a grateful mood at all. I just wanted my prey, I just wanted to be alone, but lately I'd wanted something else that was becoming more of a need than a want.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her worry had turned into anger now. The gun was facing the ground, so I decided to take confidence in Claire that she had seen all of the assassins and that none were left.

My defensive stance had dissolved into one of a pitiful woman who was on the brink; it had turned into the stance of a person who felt exactly as I had been feeling for the past few weeks. "You should go home."

"Not until you tell me what has been going on with you!" She turned red from her scalp down to the bottom of her neck, and a few red splotches were manifesting on her chest. "You've been apathetic to just about everything! You've been treating me like I'm nothing to you! And you just tried to eat a guy!" she screamed, pointing to my prey with the gun.

"Like you'd understand," I replied, the muscles in my face were tensing as I tried to hold back my tears.

"If you would talk to me Kick then I could try!"

"You couldn't because you're too stuck on Wesker. Everything leads back to him with you, it's like you look for an excuse to think about the guy and you've been doing it since we left frickin Greece! He's all around you Claire and you can't even see it. You're breathing him Claire."

"Now that you're done stalling I'd like to understand," she said gently. She was right, even though Wesker was all she could think about I was the one using him to deflect.

My heart splintered, the dams broke, and the migraine that reared its ugly head when you had yourself a good long cry was making its cameo in my skull. "You still wouldn't. You don't know what it's like to be able to smell when someone's afraid, when they're nervous, for God's sake when they're horny!" Mortified by my own admission, I went to the dumpster to my left to rest upon it as I pulled at my hair from the roots. More importantly, I'd done it so I couldn't see Claire.

With her brow furrowed she took a single step closer like she was approaching a wild animal. "You want to eat people?"

"God yes! You smell so good sometimes Claire, especially when you're in estrus. And then when you…" I trailed off, too disgusted with my own desire to continue with the confession. "Sometimes I want you so bad," I whispered, finally looking at her again and even walking over to her, "so bad that I can feel myself biting into you, and I have to push you away because I need it. I have to push Andrew away because I want him in me. If you only knew what it felt like to want to be penetrated just because, li-like you're some kind of animal in heat."

I could see in her movement that she wanted to close the gap, but she didn't. "And the stomach pain you had today?"

"They started a week ago, when I wanted sex. I can't control myself anymore Claire." By now I was too embarrassed to stay, so barefoot, confused, and alone I ran back to my house. Knowing that Claire would follow at least half a mile, I led her to the sidewalk to the public, letting her get lost with the world of normal people so that she wouldn't be left alone. I got stares as I ran, five miles being a lot to cover while barefoot, but the endorphins were welcomed and they numbed the pain of the depression that I had been fighting back for so long.

And even though the urge to run until I couldn't run anymore was strong inside me, the sight of my home stopped me, almost like some invisible hands had gently grabbed me. Something had guided me away from the path of self-destruction. Thank you God.

* * *

Subject: Wesker, Albert

Location: Classified

Status: Fine

For a year he had been lying in wait, dormant for the time being as instructed. The computer screen displayed various emails, none really applying to him, but the board loved to remind Wesker that he was simply a subordinate. He had genially taken his place a few rungs down on the ladder now that an even bigger player than the slowly sinking ship that was Umbrella was in charge. It didn't bother the Tyrant as much as it had in the past that he was beneath someone else's boot, but he was smart enough not to make complaints this round. A knock on the door pulled his attention away from the screen, and Ada entered with a knowing smile on her face.

"What have you found?" Wesker asked, not including a greeting.

Hands on her hips she purred, "Good to see you too Mr. Wesker." After taking in the small, cement layered room she gave a shrug, but since he knew her tastes she more than likely wanted to shiver. "A satellite picked up some good conversation between Isabella and Claire."

"Where?"

"London. There was a fight and apparently your pet isn't as tame as you thought." She paused for a moment, although without prompting she knew it was best that she continue. "Isabella admitted to craving human flesh, more specifically, Claire's. And as of late she's acquired quite the sexual appetite. She's changing."

Before Wesker could reply the door to the room once more opened, this time producing the lately absent Bartleby, it seemed that Roger was done with him. "Boss you have no idea how good it is to see you!" he exclaimed, completely ignoring Ada. "That freak had me delivering and shipping God knows what."

Wesker's attention had been caught by the intruder; he was so interested that he jerked his head in the brunet's direction. "What deliveries?" He had lent Bartleby to his old colleague sure, but he didn't expect the scientist to have so many errands that needed to be done in secret. And Wesker was pretty damned sure that Roger had told him to keep his trap shut about what went on Australia.

"Just the other day I had to escort a shipment to a prison in Canada. An AUA prison nonetheless."

Marveling at how thoughtless his help could be, the blond clasped his hands in his lap before staring the man right in the eyes. "You do realize who is in AUA's prison Bartleby?"

"Who?"

With a smirk, the Tyrant removed his shades, considering the possibilities brought on by this game-changer. He would have an excuse to step back into the limelight. "Commander Patricia Layfield."

With disinterest, Bartleby scoffed in Ada's direction. "There's only one prison I care about Boss. Siberia."

One hand balled into a fist on her hip, the spy took her turn to scoff, "You mean Gianna? She's wrapped up too tightly for us to care."

"I swear," he began, folding his arms over his chest, "next time you're in a pickle I'll just leave your little-"

"She's right," Wesker interrupted.

"What?" Bartleby's smile had slowly begun to fade, his hopes of getting back Gianna were shot for now it seemed. Though they were not a couple anymore, and that was almost so long ago that it felt like a dream she was literally his partner in crime. She was an integral part of the team and without her things were going to get a lot harder.

"In due time," Wesker assured his subordinate, noting his concern for Gianna. Of course Wesker knew how valuable she was to them, and despite being the result of Roger's ingenuity she was a part of his "family." "First we will see how things fold out with Ms. Layfield. Until then, I have some business to tend to in London." All he had was time.

A/N: I began suffering writer's block at Wesker's part. Ugh here we go again. Review please. I'M SERIOUS.


End file.
